[BC] The Blackest Heart (Part II) (IC)

[Machine God]

Kraggan

 

Wherever or whenever he had heard the name he could not tell. 

 

A name of power, strongly whispering in the ether. 

 

 

 

 

 

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

As he moved on through the barracks deck, Rykaz could see Armsmen caring for various tasks. One might assume that aboard a renegade vessel there would be no order at all, but although the mortals here were all certainly much dirtier and shabbier than those you would find aboard an Imperial Navy ship, Hagga could still detect a level of underlying organisation and purpose.

 

Some were off-duty, eating, or sleeping in bunks and hammocks. Others he guessed to be on active reserve - cleaning kit or weapons, playing games of cards or dice, sparring or taking part in largely friendly wrestling matches. He estimated their total numbers around the hundred mark. Logically, half that number again would currently be on active duty, squads on patrol or guarding the key areas of the ship from posts near the Bridge, Engineerium, and Hangar Bays, among others.

 

A few of the mortals stood or stopped as he passed, mouths agape. Some of them hurried to tidy away their diversions, but Hagga didn't care. Soldiering was often a matter of waiting. Overall, the troops seemed well ordered - a point in this Staff Sergeant's favour.

 

As he entered a larger chamber, he could see several fire-teams engaged in what appeared to be manoeuvre drills through a series of containers and stacks of crates. A pair of soldiers stood on a raised gantry watching the practice. One of them was slightly older, grey haired and stubbled, dressed in a similarly scruffy fashion to any of the other soldiers, but something in his manner identified him. This had to be Eisner.

 

Then the veteran saw the Executioner entering, and raised an arm in a silent salute. He said a few words to the other man and moved quickly towards the stairs down from his vantage point. When he approached, Hagga offered a nod of approval.

 

“You seem to have things well in hand, Staff Sergeant. I am impressed.”

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Bounty:

 

Introductions to local merchants are made before the Custodian finally bids you well and leaves you to the provided dataslates with programmed tours of the city, and Mister Slovik, a clerk of the Adminstratum who specialises in such things. He seems a personable sort, who is satisfied by his station and work, and rightly, for he appears some fifty summers old, with closely shaven grey stubble on his largely bald head. His grey beard is likewise neat and in proper order, and he has the attitude of a monk if not the appearance.

 

Apart from maybe one other, he is the only one bareheaded, swarthy skin proof against whatever heat beams down from above. He is of average height and build, and looks like he could be anyone. His overall demeanour is one of contentedness.

 

His knuckles, when he laces his fingers across his pale robed chest show however he may have been other things. Indeed, his eyes carry the weight of a man experienced in the assessment of land. They sit behind oblong-lens spectacles, an open countenance.

 

GM: Obviously whoever you wish can now go to their intended destinations, narrating along the way. Slovik is there in case you have any GM queries etc, otherwise gents, Harville is open to you as you please.

[A.T.]

Xerxes:

 

Drink and empty words amongst the others as Xerxes examined the slates provided. "Security must be assured for these activities. I will examine the disposition of automated and servo-automated elements before confirmation of our presence at these events, in particular the parade."

 

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Bounty:

 

Xerxes:

 

You examine the dataslates, but for obvious reasons, no security features or installations are recorded. You will have to do it the old-fashioned way, via legwork and attention to detail. It is quite apparent that subversion cannot be done from the Mechanicus holding here. You presume you will need to visit a security office or authority monitoring panopticon.

[FabiusV4lcoran]

Atesh Sapik:

 

Atesh decided to lean into his disguise further for more information.  "I am curious, Slovik. The Custodian was kind enough to describe your magnificent city's medical infrastructure. Does the distance to the hospital not provide an unnecessary risk in an emergency?"

[Mazer Rackham]

Bounty:

 

Atesh:

 

'You speak sagely, Master Medicae. However, Mother Khordelia has also seen this issue and an Ambulance sits stationed within the Arbites precinct for immediate dispatch at all hours. It was also her wish to have the hospital set apart from the town to provide rest and recuperation in a bucolic setting.'

 

Razor - Barracks:

 

Hagga:

 

'You honour me, lord,' Eisner replies, keen eyes wandering for any sign of upset to his roughly regimented kingdom. 'As you'll know, we have to keep these lags in line!' He taps a man on the shoulder, points at something to tidy away. He turns his back to the room. 'The want of the fighting man is action, and when festooned with boredom, he has wont to mischief -JENKINS! I can bloody well see you there!'

 

The incident unfolding behind him abruptly ceases.

 

'Sorry, Staff!'

 

Eisner turns on a pinhead. 'Don't sorry me, you pipsqueak, knock-kneed, wall-eyed, toerag! You were going to send Drexler flying and brained! You know the Lieutenant wouldn't have liked seeing carelessness like that.' This latter is delivered in a quiet tone, but the effect is devastating.

 

The so-called and insulted Armsman immediately sets down the piece of equipment he was wrestling with. 'Yes, Staff. Won't happen again staff.'

 

'Drexler, instead of standing there gawping at the murder machine in our midst, get your arse in gear and help Jenkins shift that kit before he hurts someone else with it!.

 

'Staff!'

 

Eisner returns to you. 'What can I help you with, sir?'

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

“Very little that you aren't already doing, from what I can tell. I'm trying to see how shipboard discipline and effectiveness can be improved. Discipline here seems…” he looked around at the hurrying Armsmen, “...solid. As to combat effectiveness, your men look well-trained. How are your stores? Weapons, ammunition, supplies?”

 

Hagga nodded towards the fire-teams working their way through the tactical gauntlet.

 

“Have your men fought beside Astartes before? If not, I will arrange combined arms close support drills.”

 

Hagga grinned.

 

“I'd offer you an official promotion to Company Commander, too… but I figure a Staff Sergeant probably gets more done?”

 

 

 

Edited March 28 by Lysimachus

[Mazer Rackham]

Hagga:

 

'I can see you're a wise and busy man, sir.' He breaks off to cast over his shoulder, 'If these slackers could hit what they're aiming at we wouldn't need the rounds, but we're perilously shy. If you could rummage some up for us, I'd be much obliged, sir, much obliged. Some of the lads could use a decent bundook as well. Armsman Varsas there doesn't even have a bayonet, which makes him Man Varsas.'

 

There's a small, stirring chuckle at that one. He lets it go, knowing the game.

 

'I've fought in an engagement over Cygnax, before the ship had to retire due to damage. A handful of us have served beside the Astral- corsairs. The men could use the training and experience, by all means.'

 

The ship vox cuts across the room.

 

Razor:

 

++Attention all hands, translation in thirty minutes, that's three-zero minutes. Secure all exposed compartments and withdraw behind salvation line. Manual shutters on deck fourteen, section six, deck thirty-five, section seventeen. All damage control to stand-by stations.++

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

Rykaz nodded. He knew there were a few spare blades and guns in the ship's inventory, but with the mortal agents already dropped off at Bounty, and the Astartes having little need for such weapons, maybe they could be shared with Eisner's men?

 

“We don't have much. Knives. A few more shotguns, a handful of pistols… Limited ammo, though. But it will be enough to arm a few more of our men. I will order it all delivered to you. As to the extra training, I will handle the first session mysel…”

 

The translation alert sounded, cutting through his reply. He paused to listen, then continued.

 

“That will have to be later, it seems. I must return to the Bridge.”

 

 

[BadgersinHills]

Acchiersum Mourn

 

He is silent after the performance, looking at nowhere in particular, lost in thought. The singer and the swordsman are still for a time known not to either of them.

 

And then, slowly, he walks over and gets on one knee to look Jaina in the eye. Gone from his face are any of his past sardonic, bemused moods. For the first time since he clambered into that savior pod- No, he had not felt so even before his warband had been slaughtered, choking on mud and dust. For a moment he was there, a boy from a world he cared not to remember, looking up to a gold-armoured giant, meeting his gaze and seeing that there was more he could do than just die young in a meaningless war between gangs. 

 

He could become an Emperor's Child.

 

He could become perfect. 

 

"Excellent, my friend," he said gently, offering a hand to Jaina. That moment was when the vox blared, causing him to look up and sigh. 

 

 

 

Edited March 29 by BadgersinHills

[Necronaut]

Ukalegon

 

Thirty minutes to translation. Good.

 

Ukalegon emerged from the modest armourium with a fresh coat of paint applied to his ragged suit of mismatched Mk VI and VII armour. Gone was any evidence of the Lamenters’ heraldry, or that of the other chapters whose donated, rather stolen, pieces now comprised his war-plate and jump pack. He had ordered the armoury serfs to paint his void-scarred plate black as pitch, allowing only for his left pauldron to bear the Tyrant’s Claw on a field of crimson. The only other splashes of color were a black-and-white chequerboard upon his left knee plate and red saltires emblazoned upon his dark gauntlets, and the fanged skull upon his breast had been restored to its previous ivory state.

 

None here would know the significance of the red crosses, the Wounds of the Angel, and that suited him just fine. None here should ever know of the secret shame of the Lamenters or any of Sanguinius’s childer, and he would take the knowledge of that blood-soaked madness to his grave, even as it slowly consumed him from the inside out. He did not know exactly why he had ordered they be added to his armour, but the sight of them brought him some measure of comfort.

 

For he was one of them now, one of the living dead, those cursed to survive where their brethren had not, driven only to kill and maim until true death finally stayed their hands. Existing in some hellish half-life, his flesh and purpose had been twisted into a dark mirror image of what had come before. 

 

A fallen angel, recast in ebon and blood; the knight of swords, inverted.

 

A rough, torch-cut ecranche now also graced the intersection of his right pauldron and plastron, bearing the alabaster image of a leering skull weeping droplets of blood on a field of diagonally halved black and yellow. After all, if Hagga could sport his own personal honours, why couldn't he?

 

The vertebrae and skulls that he had taken as trophies from the gene-stealers upon Brimstone had joined his golden weeping eye pendant, an arcane force-field of some alien provenance, upon its chain, resulting in a macabre ossuary torc hung around his neck.

 

Additionally, a hand flamer, field modified into a vambrace-mounted configuration by one of the sinister tech-adepts from either Xerxes or Kraggan’s coterie of cybernetic freaks, now rode atop his left gauntlet, his pistol-hand. He was ready for battle.

 

At the summons issued by the wailing klaxon, Ukalegon made for the bridge, passing through the refectory for two bowls of bland, nutrient-fortified gruel, laden with gobbets of singed meat whose origins were best left unknown. These he choked this down in one gluttonous gulp each and departed, leaving the galley staff equally awe-struck and horrified by his ravenous hunger.

Edited March 30 by Necronaut

[A.T.]

Xerxes:

 

"Efficiency dictates that I begin my task without further distraction"

 

A backwater on the surface but such worlds could prove deceptive, the Imperium would not leave such a tithe unguarded. Sooner or later this warm greeting would also likely evolve into an attempt to secure favour or wealth from whatever those here envisaged a trader to be able to offer and it would be wise to not be caught empty handed.

[Mojake]

Varne

 

Breathing hard, Varne listened to the transmission over the ship-wide communications as his chainsword tore through the final training servitor. He thumbed off the power to his weapon and exited the cage, collecting his gear. He strode past the clean-up crew and gave them a quick nod of thanks, then made his way to the bridge.

[Iron Father Ferrum]

Obadiah:

 

Obi sat in the mess hall, slowly eating the nutrient-laden gruel that was being served as a meal this day.  Unlike that first meal on Brimstone, here he sat alone.  His dark face was more brooding than normal, and the mortals were stepping lightly around him as a result.  His conversation with Varne had been illuminating, and he was still internalizing his new companion's mindset -- and confronting his own trauma a bit, if he was being honest with himself.

 

Then the klaxon blared, giving the thirty-minute warning before warp translation.  He took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh, then choked down the last of his gruel.  He stood, checked his gear, and made sure his helmet was maglocked to his belt, then began making his way through the maze of corridors to the bridge.  Warp travel was always dangerous, and being without a navigator made it more dangerous still.  In addition to that, this was a new vessel for them, so Throne knew if any of the subsystems were non-functional.  You know, like the Geller field generator.

[Mazer Rackham]

Razor - All Decks/Compartments:

 

The alarm of action stations hammers out. This is not the same tocsin of translation, which is different, keening and disturbing by nature - this is an alert of martial vigour, equally churning to stomach and heart, this lacks the terrifying skirl which abruptly throttles the spine and befuddles the wits.

 

Even so, the next utterance is quite approximate.

 

++All Hands to Action Stations, Hands to Action Stations, State 1 Condition Zulu, intruder reported Engineerium, Sector Seven-One. All Armsmen respond.++

 

On the very cusp of entering the warp, a monstrous danger to life, limb and soul, there comes one more burden.

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

Hagga was just on his way out of the barracks when the second alert sounded. An intruder? How? A stowaway? Delphynie? The damn cat?

 

He turned back to lock eyes with the Staff Sergeant.

 

“Eisner, I'm going to the Engineerium, give me two fire-teams, now! Get the rest of the reserves up and combat ready, then await my signal!”

 

Edited March 30 by Lysimachus

[Mojake]

Varne

 

Still a couple of minutes from the bridge, Varne stopped in his tracks at the alert. Once the echo had faded, he patched into the astartes vox-channel, looping in Magos Kraggan.

 

+Brothers, status check - intruder, singular? Does protocol dictate a full transhuman response to a lone assailant?+

 

His hesitation wasn't borne from apathy or laziness, more out of concern that overdoing it might give certain impressions to the mortals aboard the ship. Fear was a useful tool used when required, but a constant state of latent terror would not have their serfs performing at maximum efficiency.

 

[Mazer Rackham]

Razor:

 

+This is Corporal Jellicoe, responding. Intruder has been secured in the Engineerium coolant pipe transit shaft. Just one so far. The other teams are making sweeps to make sure.+

 

A deep, rough voice, with a vague note of hysteria echoes on the vox-line in piggy-back.

 

+...an ye try that wi me, ya bastards, I'll kill every last one of ye's! Yur no gonna shove a daemon up ma arse!+

 

Potshots and careening ricochets punctuate the robust refusal of daemonic suppositories.

 

Edited March 30 by Mazer Rackham

[BadgersinHills]

Acchiersum Mourn

 

Mourn had been about to rise to his feet when the second vox burst came in, and then the vox-line in his plate burst to life. Now this was something that sounded fun. He gently lifted Jaina up to stand, and then gestured his arm to the room.

 

"I thank you again for the performance, my friend. As my thanks, use this room how you see fit. I only regret I have no more to offer you," he said, and grinning, stalked away to investigate this new disturbance. 

 

 

 

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

+Eisner, stand down those reserves again. Doesn't sound like we need them.+

 

 

Edited March 30 by Lysimachus

[Lord_Ikka]

Crux'as

 

Crux'as smiled at Slovik and bows slightly.

 

"Thank you for your assistance. I believe that I will take my leave and discuss supplies with the merchants here. Master Atesh, did you wish to visit the medicae facility on your own?"

 

Crux'as didn't know if sending the Warp-blessed one out on his own was a good idea, but the pyromancer should be able to fend for himself if he so chose to. He would talk and mingle with the various merchants, searching for hints of rebellion and the exact positioning of the warehouses.

Spoiler

 

Charm Test to gain Peer (Merchants?)

Target - 62

Roll - 57

Result = Pass, no DoS. Gain Peer (Merchant) for the session. 

 

Inquiry Test(s) 

Test 1 - Inquiry about foodstuff warehouses, positioning and security 

Target - 41 + 10 (Peer) = 51

Roll - 02

Result = Pass, 4 DoS

 

Test 2 - Inquiry about any common-known "subversive " elements and their possible locations

Target - 41 + 10 (Peer) = 51

Roll - 24

Result = Pass, 2 DoS

 

The Smiler moved through the market, charming and flattering as he went. Never promising anything fully, leaving tantalizing hints of the Syndicate's wealth and potential needs. This was his element, cheating and fooling those loyal to the Corpse-God,. Now, if he could only find some who had potential for the Eight-Fold Paths...

Edited March 30 by Lord_Ikka

[Mazer Rackham]

Bounty - Crux'as:

 

GM: As you wander and ply your patter, you overhear or discover the following snippets of gossip/information:

• The warehouses, or Kontors are bonded warehouses for goods dispersal, and shelters for produce rendering and loading silos, with two silos per bond house. They are located three miles North of Harville and fall under the Administratum jurisdiction of Alderman Johann Grayves, who is Alderman this year.
• The Previous holder of office was Alderfrau Deanna Padruk, and she was hanged for embezzlement, and her family home cast down and re-used to rebuild several boundary walls. The family were evicted, and their lands seized by order of the local Arbites Commander.
• House Padruk's survivors have not forgiven the slight, and retired to the hold of a family ally out in the far country.
• There are cautionary tales of travelling through 'Marchant's Vale' a supply route which is currently beset by banditry (which is not uncommon normally but on this scale, is).
• The Guard is coming with a force to eradicate the Vale, or bolster local security.
• The local PDF Commander is being investigated for having an illicit (and exceptionally drunken) affair with the Planetary Governor's daughter.

 

[Lysimachus]

Hagga:

 

After dismissing his additional troops back to the barracks, Hagga hurried aft towards the Engineerium, followed by Eska. When he arrived, he looked around the huge space with its vast plasma chambers and kilometres of pipes and tubing, searching for the squad of Armsmen guards assigned to this area. Ah, there. Soldiers in blue Battlefleet Maelstrom uniforms, standing out amidst the many red-robed ‘Adeptus’ that actually ran the Engineerium.

 

“Corporal Jellicoe!” he roared. “Report! Where is this ‘intruder’?”

 

[Lord_Ikka]

Crux'as

 

Resentment, pride, arrogance. All things I can work with.

 

House Padruk. Formerly powerful, now living on someone else's property. Potentially stewing in the outskirts of this little world. No longer a large predator in a small arena.

 

Crux'as like this. Formerly powerful families and the like were very reliable sources of recruits and support. They wanted revenge, to be back in the powerful positions that they once had. Exploiting their injured psyches was his bread-and-butter. 

 

He would make way to their current location and see what he could wring out of them.

 

Cor'gail, watch my works and make my tongue convince these fools to believe.